Bloodstained Daisies USUK (Ghoultalia Tokyo Ghoul x Hetalia)
by Goats Cheese
Summary: Ghoultalia USUK (Hetalia x Tokyo Ghoul crossover) When America remembers an accident that happened when he was a child can things between him and england ever be the same again?
1. Chapter 1

**_Hey this is me and my friend's first fanfiction together so we're not sure if it'll be much good... _**

**_It's a ghoultalia fanfiction, (Tokyo Ghoul x Hetalia) which doesn't seem very popular... :(_**

**_Well since we couldn't find anything on it we decided we'd make it ourselves! :D_**

**_*Proud*_**

**_Sorry if it's really crappy... But this is for all those fans out there who may want this crossover but haven't found anything on it._**

**_AKA: Us_**

**_Enjoy. :)_**

America hummed as he plucked the daisies from the ground, being careful not to damage the petals. England had always been going on about how much of a nuisance they where in his garden, and how they made the rose beds look messy and uncared for. Today however, he was going to prove to England just how pretty the daisies really where.

America had always taken a liking to that particular garden weed for some reason (although, he would have called it a flower.) Perhaps it was the pretty simplicity of the colours, or the fact that they grow all over and they are always growing together, being together. Just like he and England always will be. Who knows, but still even after years whenever he comes across one, it makes him feel nostalgic and strange.

He skipped in through the door and started searching the kitchen cupboards for something nice to present them in, and finally came across a beautiful asian looking china vase, patterned with blue flowers and stripes. The boy was extra careful whilst moving it down onto the counter and filling it with water. After arranging the plain beauties into a presentable position the young nation heard sounds down in the basement. He grinned with glee and without a clue as to what he would see, opened the creaky wooden door.

"England has always told me never to come down here…but today is a special exception!"

The boy whispered to himself as he tiptoed down the dark corridor, vase held protectively to his chest. After just a little while the light at the top of the stairs disappeared and America started to have second thoughts. The dark stretched far ahead of him and his footsteps suddenly started to echo. Nervous, he picked up the pace. Finally, after what seemed like ages of walking, he arrived outside an old-fashioned looking door. His tiny fingers gripped around the vase in one arm and with the other, he gingerly reached out towards the cold iron doorknob…

England slammed the knife down on the table, The sharp edge pierced the tender flesh and he watched the blood slowly crawl out onto the wooden surface. He picked up a limb and bit down hard, his eyes immediately changed to black, with a blood red pupil that seemed to swim in the black abyss. He sighed, contented and took another large bite. blood splattered over his cheeks and dribbled down the corner of his mouth, pooling out across the table in thick dribbles.

"E-England…?"

The nation flinched, whilst crouched over the table and heard a loud smashing sound coming from the doorway. He spun around, and there he was, the shocked nation whom he called his brother was lying on the floor. Broken china and flowers where scattered around him. His eyes where wide open and glazed over with fear. A small spill of blood coming from a cut on his forehead where the china had sunk in.

England looked in horror at the scene, too many thoughts whirling in his mind, too many things he needed to do right then that he couldn't decide on just one.

After a few seconds one simple sound escaped his mouth. Something that would put a stain on his usually immaculate dialect and he shall never admit to later.

"Oh no…."

England whispered in a panicked manner, as he scrambled towards the tiny nation's body, whilst wiping the blood on his face away with his sleeve.

America just lay there, absolutely silent. He looked over and saw he had cut his hand on one of the pieces of smashed china, and the blood was now seeping slowly into the thin petals of the dandelion that lay next to him, making them tainted and bloodstained.

Something about bloodstained daisies seemed so sickeningly sweet and romantic. Those were his last thoughts as he drifted off to sleep, a small smile gracing his lips.

Then he heard England murmur something as everything faded to black.

**_Hey! So... How was it?_**

**_I hope it was okay, this is the prologue and we're hoping to continue this story soon._**

**_We really hope that Ghoultalia will become more popular in the future and we'll have more of it! _**

**_Thanks for reading :D_**

**_Pastaaa~_**


	2. Chapter 2

America traced his fingers along the scar on his forehead. Usually concealed by his hair it stood out when unhidden. He sometimes wondered how he got it. He had always been told it was an accident he'd had when he was a child with a vase. But he honestly couldn't remember anything. He grabbed his bomber jacket and headed off (late) to the meeting.

Maybe he'd ask England again someday, it couldn't hurt.

When he arrived at the meeting Russia and China were already fighting.

"How could you possibly think that some gravel from one of your goddamned Siberian fields was a legitimate way to apologise?! It took me months to stock up on those rare ingredients, you better think of a better way to repay me!"

"No friend, you do not understand, that is not merely gravel, but soil to help you grow the ingredients, you can stock up again yes?"

"Look you idiot, if you think that a handful of soil is enough of an excuse to get away with then you better rethink your entire plan. I want all the ingredients back by tomorrow!"

The screaming and exchange of bitter insults continued for a while until America decided to lighten the mood with a harmless, fun and family friendly joke;

"Hey Russia! is the reason you write in lower case letters because you hate capitalism?"

The other nations fell silent.

Whilst America was completely dumfounded at the fact that no-one had even so much as snickered, Russia charged towards him, throwing a punch which the nation just about managed to dodge. His fist slammed into the wall.

"Woah hey dude calm down! It was just a joke!" Said America, who spun around to face the now seething Russia.

"Stay out of this, pig boy."

And with that, Russia reached behind him and pulled out that long, metal death weapon. America realised far too late that he was trapped in one corner of the room. He heard a voice call out;

"Russia, stop!"

But by that time it was far too late, the pipe struck America just above the scar and everything faded to white as he crumpled to the floor.

Images and scenes flashed before his eyes, shown to him one after another. England's house, a vase, stairs, the cellar… Fear. Was it real? It felt that way. England was whispering something as he drew closer and closer. He couldn't make out most of it but he picked up a faint, "Sorry for being a monster", before he was thrust back to reality.

There were blaring alarms, voices all around him, hands lifting him and monitors beeping. For a while he just lay there, too exhausted to do anything. As he finally found the strength to open his eyes he saw the one person he feared by his bed.

He stared at the relieved face of England with wide eyes. That relief quickly switched to worry when England finally noticed his expression.

"Alfred? Are you okay? If you need some water I can get you some. Your brother fainted at the sight of blood so he's at his house resting right now with Francis. It was quite a shock how Russia just hit you like that." England said softly. He gave breaks in between incase America wanted to talk, but soon realised he wasn't about to be carried on.

When America finally got his voice back he whispered, "You're a monster…"

England looked at him shocked, but with an under layer of sadness. "What are you talking about, what's wron-."

"You know what's wrong! The cellar, that's what's wrong!" Alfred was quickly edging away from him on the hospital bed as Arthur's expression turned alarmed.

"Y- you remember?" He whispered, seemingly too terrified to be panicked. America wondered why he would be the one terrified.

"Of course I fucking remember! How could you keep that from me? How could I be so damn blind to not realise that you weren't even human?" His voice was raising and a doctor came in. She cast England a sad look that he returned brokenly.

"Is there something the matter?" She asked sweetly. England guessed that she had dealt with these types of situations many times before.

"I'm afraid he may be hallucinating, that or he's hit his head quite badly so as to cause an altered memory." The nurse nodded in understanding before going to America's bedside. America sent a glare at England as he silently left the room.

"I know what I saw, Arthur," England flinched at the use of his full name, "and I never want to speak to you again. Stay away from me." The words were spat out in horror and disgust. All England could do was nod sadly as he quietly left the room.

One week later

America had thought over the newly acquired memories every night. They didn't seem like misplaced memories or illusions, and he remembered the daisies really well for some reason. A week after being discharged from the hospital, it was the Allied forces meeting.

He'd been planning to avoid England, but in the end it seemed he didn't need to. There wasn't a single call or text to check that America was okay. Nor sight of the Brit, and as much as America didn't want to admit it, he wanted answers... And maybe to make sure England was okay…but that definitely wasn't the main reason…

He took in a deep breath and pushed open the heavy doors, causing a loud thud. The other members didn't even bother to look up (as it had become the norm). America had his usual euphoric smile plastered onto his face and let out a burst of obnoxious laughter, but something seemed off.

"Hey dudes!" He shouted (much too Cheerfully) "Sorry I'm kinda late! I was...uhhh..." He took a moment to think of an authentic excuse, and found one:

"It was Matthew's fault." There was a chorus of 'who's?' despite there being a shadowy figure in the corner of the room.

The meeting started and the usual chaos erupted. However America remained strangely quiet, and kept stealing glances at the fuming England, who was currently debating with France about British cuisine.

The meeting finally ended after what seemed like hours of non-stop anger and bitter threatening, and America stood up to cautiously walk over to England's desk.

England looked up in surprise, and America involuntarily flinched. He looked to the floor to avoid the heartbroken look on England's face. It took a few moments for the preplanned words to leave his mouth.

"H- hey Iggy. I was wondering if you'd like to... Uhm, meet up for coffee or tea at some point or something?"

England took a moment to check if America was being sincere before he nodded. "I suppose there are a couple things we should discuss. Unless you'd like to just pretend this all never happened?"

America shook his head. "No. I want to know about... Whatever this is."

England nodded again. "Shall we meet around five at the cafe around the corner from here? I've got some work I need to do for four." After America nodded England left.

America dashed around the corner, he was already ten minutes late and it took another 5 minutes before he finally reached the cafe.

Out of breath and panting, he crouched in front of England, who now had his arms folded and an eyebrow raised.

"It seems you really do have no concept of time," He huffed, "Come on then." and with that he strutted over to a table around the back of the cafe courtyard, and sat down in one of the seats. America awkwardly stomped over and pulled out one of chairs, feeling strangely like this was to normal for what had happened.

The table itself happened to be in a shady, yet beautiful part of the garden, rosebushes and heavily-scented lavender shielded the table away from the rest of the bustling courtyard, and decorated it nicely also. America couldn't help but think that this part of the cafe garden was extremely British.

After about a minute of awkward silence, a waitress came over and they ordered.

"One coffee please, a pastry, a lemon tart, a doughnut with extra sugar and a pineapple." America rambled happily, and then turned to England, "oh Arthur, you want a tea right?"

"Oh a coffee is fine thank you." England said politely. America's jaw dropped and England sent the waitress away with a smile.

"Dude what's with the coffee?" America finally asked. England looked at him with a thick brow raised.

"Is that really your first prioritised question? Anyway, coffee is the only thing I can drink without throwing up."

America stared at him as if he had grown an extra head, and then that new head had cannibalised the old one. "Why the hell do you drink tea then?"

England looked at him boredly. "I throw up later. I just drink it out of principle anyway." As America continued to stare England rolled his eyes. "Can we move on?"

America nodded mutely until the next question came. "So it wasn't a dream or something?" He asked although he knew the answer. England nodded which lead to the next question. The one America wasn't sure he wanted to ask. "So what are you?"

England winced at the blunt question, but cleared his throat anyway and stated; "A ghoul."

"Which is?..." America pressed.

England sighed and took a moment to think of a way to describe to an American in a way that he would understand.

"A creature that's part human, and in many ways one."

"Do you mean a vampire?! Holy shit thats cool!"

England subconsciously face-palmed and turned around to notice an extreme look of concern on the waitresses face.

She placed the food on the table and left as quickly as possible. Managing to walk into some fat bloke who obviously wasn't too happy about his ice-cream being smeared onto his shirt.

England glared at America. "Now look what you've done? Are you so stupid to think that vampires still exist? They went extinct years ago! And you say I'm out of touch with the times. Too many weaknesses those things..."

"And the difference between you is?" America grumbled through a mouthful of canned pineapple.

"Well, Vampires can actually eat human food, they only choose to feed off of other mortals because they like the taste. Whereas my species can only eat flesh and organs from humans, and despise your food. In fact, if we merely consume any it could be a serious danger to our health. Therefore in public we act as if we're enjoying it, when in reality straight afterwards we force ourselves to vomit."

America went white as a polar bear that had been rolling in snow and white paint. "So you hate all human food?"

"What did i just say America?"

"But isn't there anything you can enjoy? That must suck!"

England groaned. "We can enjoy coffee but that's it. Don't worry though, humans do have varying tastes and different textures." England looked into outer space for a moment, taking a long, slow sip of his coffee, causing America to shiver.

"Uhh... Iggy?" England jumped out of his daze and America continued. "So you never ate the food I gave you without throwing up?"

England looked uncomfortable for a second. "I did try to eat the things you gave me..."

"But?" America said sadly.

"It made me really sick and in the end I needed out."

America slumped slightly, a hurt look on his face, and mumbled into the pastry he was now eating. "It's okay. I understand." Then another thought entered his mind. "Wait... So you still eat people?"

England looked at him as if he was the dumbest person alive. "You only thought of that now? What the bloody hell do you think git?"

America looked thoughtful. "So how do you kill people?"

England's eyes widened. "Should we really talk about this?" He asked.

"Yes, I feel like this wont be settled until you tell me everything there is to know…" America hinted.

England took one last sip of his coffee, and stood up.

"Alright, fine. I suppose it's only fair…But we can't talk about it here…"

England tailed off and looked around him nervously. This made America feel yet more uncomfortable, as if England could see something clearly that he was unable to.

"…Follow me." England suddenly said in a low, clear voice that obviously meant business.

He then proceeded to scatter a few pound coins onto the table (forgetting the national American currency) and marched down the road. America stumbled behind, nervous yet excited with anticipation…

Only one of them noticed the 2 men in white that left behind them…


End file.
